


Detention

by That_One_Fan_Girl



Series: Powerpuff Girls fics [1]
Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: (ha rolls off the tongue), (maybe), Aged-Up Character(s), Bad Boy Butch, Coming of Age, Detention, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gang Greene Gang, Gang Violence, High School, Mixed colours, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Vandalism, Waiters & Waitresses, the
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_One_Fan_Girl/pseuds/That_One_Fan_Girl
Summary: After an incident involving a cute snake named Charles, a hose and Princess, Bubbles ends up with detention, along with one of the Bad boys of the school, Butch.Sure bad boy sounds cliché, but what else would you call him? A trouble maker? Way too humble. A villain? Too harsh and too soon to be calling him that.Yup, bad boy Is what she calls him. And she’s stuck with him for the next two weeks. He and his brothers are all bad boys.
Relationships: Ace Copular/Buttercup Utonium, Butch/Bubbles Utonium
Series: Powerpuff Girls fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683715
Comments: 20
Kudos: 43





	1. Charles The Snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all starts with a snake and a hose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first PPG fix, please go easy on me.

  
“Ms. Utonium!” Mr. Bowers’ loud voice hurts my ears. “Ms. Morbucks that's enough!” he yells again, but louder. 

I can't think straight.

I wish I could cover my ears if not for the fact in my left hand is a hose, gushing out cold water and in the other is Princess’ firry hot curls tight in my fist, ready to be ripped out her skull. I wish I could cover my ears but I'm frozen, stunned.

Her screams, more like wailing, are ten times worse then what he could bellow out. And tight against my ear too. 

_Sorry, Mr. Bowers, Princess wins this screaming match._

Both of their voices, different tones and pitches fighting for attention. It's all became white noise to me. 

White noise banging around in my head and won't leave. 

I can’t help but blink as the world seemingly slows down. My eyes wide and mouth hanging open like fish. I’m ridged with both arms halfway raised in the air. Both Princess and myself are soaked to the bone. My clothes stick to my body and I didn’t dare move to find out what they felt like rubbing against my body when I move. Unlike Princess Morbucks, who is kicking and screaming, I am completely still and my fist still firmly gripping her hair.

The class is at a standstill, seemingly as shocked as I am. Some of my classmates are also wet, but not to such extent as myself and Princess. 

I'm shivering. I hadn't realized until now how cold and wet I truly am until my teeth start chattering. I can feel my body trembling and my skin crawls. 

”Bubbles, Princess, I'm giving you both two weeks of after school detention, ” finally something Mr. Bowers says doesn't go through one ear and other the other. 

”What!” I finally speak and it's loud as high. I know I’ve hurt a few people’s ears. I squeeze the hose harder, more cold water gushing out. 

”Give me that, ” he says with a growl and snatches the hose away. I flinch, thinking I may get hit. He turns off the hose and places it down on the counter. He sighs, rubbing her bolding forehead. 

”But—but she...she...and I and Charles...” I barely babble, tears stinging my eyes. I want to cry. I really want to cry. I've never been in so much trouble before. I refuse to cry in front of Princess. I won't let her have the satisfaction of watching me cry.

”This is all you’re fault!” Princess yells. “My clothes are ruined!” He voice hurts my ears. 

I snap my head to look at her with a deep frown pulling on my lips. “I was trying to stop you from doing something stupid, _stupid, ”_ I lash back. I wince at my words. 

_Okay, Bubbles, not the best comeback but we’ll work on that_. My frown deeps at what I just said.

Buttercup would have come up way more hurtful then that; and Blossom would have said something witty or smart. 

_Stupid?_ Really Bubbles? Is that all you got? 

I hate how stupid I can be at times. But it seems like my pathetic excuse of an insult seems to set her off. She places a hand on her breasts and gasps. “I’m not stupid, you’re stupid, you— _you_ bug eyed freak!” she hisses and throws her shoe at me.

”Ladies.” I didn’t hear him. Or I chose to ignore him. 

It hits me in the head and she laughs, more like snorts and cackles like a witch. I pick up her shoe and throw it back, nailing the heel in the middle of her nose. She reels back crying and holds her _probably_ fake nose.

She whines, her voice nasally and fat tears fall down her round rosy cheeks. “My nose! You snot, you broke my nose!” 

“Girls!” he says again. I block out his voice.

”It’s probably fake.” 

_Bubbles you shouldn’t have said that._

”You Bitch—“

”Enough!” Mr. Bowers yells, snapping us out of our yelling match. Once he has our attention, he sighs, rubbing the wrinkles he's gained over the past 15 years from dealing with teenagers. I can't blame him for being tired. We are acting like brats. 

“That’s it,” he says to himself. “Three weeks of after school detention for the both of you,” he says.

I wince, opting to keep my mouth shut to not gain anymore detention time. Princess has a different tactic. Screaming and demanding. 

Her face goes tomato red: it goes with her round face and her cheeks are puffed out like a chipmunk. I wonder if it’s an interrogation technique used by whatever rare species of human she is? Must be. 

“I’ll tell my _daddy_ about this!” Princess yells. I can hear my ears ring. I frown in annoyance and roll my eyes. She's used that threat so many times I'm not sure I believe her anymore. 

I finally let go of her hair. I haven’t released I was still holding onto the fiery red curls until my hand relaxed and dropped to my side. I rub my hand. It’s raw and red from my iron grip and my nails digging into my palm.

She lets out a _hmph_ , smoothing the damp curls and pouting at her now ruined perm. I frown and watch her press down on the unruly red curls of hell. I feel my hand tighten into a fist again. 

I'm not sorry. I'll say it, but I won't mean it. 

I glare at her, watching her wring out her lavender blouse. I feel bad for the poor blouse, but I’m glad she’s suffering. 

“She hurt Charles,” I say, frowning. 

“That dumb lizard?” She squawks, Turing her nose up at me. “He bit me!” 

She makes me want to yank her hair again. Hard. And this time I would let go until she cute me free herself. 

“You scared him!” I tell her,” You can’t manhandle an innocent creature with your beastly hands! And he’s a reptile!” I quickly toss back. I can’t believe her, how can she be so dumb. “And he didn’t like you touching him anyway! You’re too rough and loud. You jerk!” No one messes with Charles. No one. Not even Princess. And I am going to make sure she gets an earful. 

Why is she even in biology if she can’t even figure out he’s a reptile!?

”Enough girls,” Mr. Bowers orders. He’s stern and cold. I know he didn’t want to hear any more of our screaming, but I wasn’t done, and neither was Princess.

I sigh. I shut up anyway, not wanting to get a fourth week of of detention. Three weeks is already bad enough.

Mr. Bowers looks so tired. He has every right to be mad. I did— _we_ did just destroy the biology classroom over one snake...A very cute snake, but a a snake all the same. But I couldn’t just sit there and watch her choke him to death with her hands and strong perfume. 

“Bubbles, after school, every day for three weeks I want you to report to room 302,” he says,” same for you Princess, only room 219,” he says. “I don’t want you two anywhere near one another! Am I clear?” I nod. I’m not sure if Princess nods but I know that she’s tried to get out of detention before with money and it didn’t work. “And I’ll know if either of you skips.” His gaze is on Princess. 

He makes us clean up the class while he teaches. Okay, thats fair. We’ll just have to catch up, biting having us clean in our wet clothes? Not nice Mr. Bowers. Though out the cleaning, Princess sends glares my way and whines ever step of the way and blames me every moment she gets. How can one girl be this annoying? Was she the first human wailing machine made by the government but they got rid of her because of how annoying and loud she is? 

I may babble sometimes but put me next to Princess, and I look like a mute. Scratch that, I’d probably yell at her for her bratty attitude. Buttercup would be proud. 

Luckily, my phone wasn't ruined. I’m able to text Buttercup to grab me some spear clothes while I’m in class. I didn’t want to disturb Blossom. She’s in a test right now, though I’m sure she’s probably done at this point.

The bell rings and I go to grab my bag, knowing Buttercup is waiting near the girl’s bathroom for me. I swing my bag over my shoulder.

”Bubbles,” Mr. Bowers calls my over. 

I can feel my skin start to grow goosebumps again and I shiver.

Hesitantly I walk over to his desk, my lips turned down into a pout. Was I going to get into more trouble?

I stop just a few inches from his desk and rock back on my heels. “Yes Mr. Bowers?” My legs rub together. I’m fidgeting with my back straps. 

He sighs, looking rather tired and leaning back in his rolling chair. His big belly bulged out and he scratched his black moustache.   
  
“I just want you to know that this won’t be going on your record,” he says.

I felt a little weight off my shoulders. A weight I hadn’t even been think about my record.

Oh my gosh, Blossom would have killed me and ad would have a heart attack. Buttercup would probably laugh. I can’t blame any of them. I’m feeling all three of those right now.

“Thank you, sir, ” I say, smiling my brightest behind a weighted smile. “But can I ask why?” I should be in so much trouble by now. It's only fair to ask and get an answer.

He nods thoughtfully. ”Ya aren’t like Princess and you ain’t those punk Rowdyruff boys or whatever they call themselves running around.”

_Okay, fair point_. I'm normally a lot calmer and my grades are good, not as good as blossom, but good and I'm genuinely known as a good person around the school, helping both teachers and students. 

I'm grateful for my kind heart. 

He continues, ”you’re a good kid and since this is a first time for you, and an accident, I won’t record this,” he says. He smiles, placing his finger to his lips and winks. “This stays between you and me, yeah?” he asks, slowly nodding his head.

I nod too.   
  
”Thank you, sir.” 

I take my leave, making sure to give him a bright smile. I need to get out of these clothes. They've dried funny with a few places damp and I'm starting to chafe. 

* * *

Buttercup tosses her head back, laughing hard. She looks like she’s about to bust a gut. There are tears in her eyes and her smile is too wide.

She always looks beautiful laughing her hardest. Her smirk and dangerous frown look good too. I’m jealous of how strangely mature she looks.

She’s like the punk-Snow White. Her messy black hair and snow skin and her lime green eye. It all makes her look doll-like, well that is until she punches someone out with her bare fist. Her blocky red tank and old leather jacket ripped jeans and back combat boots. 

She's so beautiful. 

She doesn't normally we're make-up. Her eyes are big and bright with long black lashes. When she does occasionally have a smoky eye or lipstick, she looks something out of a movie. I swear one time her lips were so red she probably used fresh blood as lipstick after one of her fights. 

I wish I had her mature look and confidence. I'm kinda jealous of her.

I smile, shaking my head. I look at the shirt she picked off for me.

I’m grateful she picked something more my style and not hers, though she had been trying to get me to wear more black and leather. I’m glad she thought of me. But sometimes I did wish she could break me out of my comfort zone and I could have some form of her confidence. 

A banana yellow t-shirt with a cute blue balloon on the front and a pair of blue jeans covered in dried paint. I sigh gratefully at the sight of underwear and bra. I was already started to chafe down there. 

I stare down at the clothes with annoyance targeted at myself. I wish I could dress more adults. I dress babish and I always look too cute that people think I’m younger then I am. My clothes are cute though, I like cute things. But I wish I could be as mature as Buttercup, or even Blossom.   
  
Blossom is pretty in her own way and has her own style. She normally shows up to school in dresses or skirts that expand when her twirls or they would stick to her thighs like she was a businesswoman. She looked like a young businesswoman about to go to work, not a high schooler.

“Thanks,” I say, smiling at her. She smiles back before I disappear into a stall.

”God, I wish I could have been there,” he says, he laughed dying to a small chuckle. 

“No,” I say, stripping off my clothes, ” you don’t, ” I tell her. ”You would have gotten really wet.” I slip on my bra.

”I would have loved to see you rip out her hair, ” she snickers.

I roll my eyes. I would have liked to have seen that too. 

“I told you,” I grunt, jumping to shimmy my pants up to my damp itchy legs. “It was an accident.”

“I say you still should have done it,” I hear her laugh. 

I huff, finding it funny. I should have. It would be nice to see her show up with her hair all chopped off just because I tore some out. How funny would that be? 

I shake my head. No, that’s not me. As much as I think about doing it, I can’t. That’s not what she should be doing. It’s not nice. 

I open the stall door and smile at her. She’s sitting on the floor, legs crossed and holding my pink hairbrush from my dresser. She pats her lap, beckoning me over. 

I walk over and sit down in her lap. She pulls on my low pigtails and starts brushing out the knots. 

Say anything about Buttercup: call her a tomboy, call her a punk rock chick, call her delinquent, but don't say she isn't caring or gentle at times. 

I always loved how motherly Buttercup can be. Most people would think it would be Blossom, but no, surprising she’s the one that's the most motherly. 

No, Blossom was grown up in a different way with her grades and self-reliance. 

Dad says Buttercup reminds him a lot like mom and Blossom of her self reliance.

I wish I could remember her face. I have vague memories of her and I can remember the feeling of her, but every time I think of my mom, Buttercup normally comes to mind. In some ways, I think Blossom thinks so too. 

She won’t admit it, but when she was having a nightmare one night and Buttercup woke her up, she clung to her, calling her mom. She didn’t release it wasn’t mom until she spoke aft a long silence and just Buttercup combing her hair. Blossom was embarrassed and pushed her away.

They didn’t speak about it. 

Blossom remembers more about mom than any of us, I don’t think she likes to talk about it. 

She was the only one brave enough to walk into that hospital room and say goodbye...

I smile, watching the stalls, trying to keep my head still. ”So, how’s the boyfriend?” I ask mocking. Trying to make small talk. 

She gives my hair a harsh tug. I hiss, “ow Buttercup, I’m sorry.” 

I know she’s frowning, but she goes back to gently bursting my hair. “He’s good,” she puts plainly. 

“Seven months,” I push, smiling teasingly to myself,” that’s pretty impressive.

She quiet, still brushing my hair out. I can feel it become lighter as the knots curls are forced out by they brushed bristles. 

“I really like him,” she says. 

I grin harder. “I bet,” I say. 

If I close my eyes, I can totally see her as a mom. Two young kids running around the kitchen as Buttercup sits at the table with a cup of coffee planning her kid’s soccer game. 

Yeah, I could see it. She’d be the best mom ever. 

“He’s so nice to me, even though we argue a lot,” she says and my smile softens. It snaps me out of my fantasy. “I know he’s not the best but he treats me well and you know...stuff.” I can sense her embarrassment.

Her being happy is all I could ask for. That's all dad and Blossom would ask for too. 

I decide not to push any further. 

”I’m hungry, ” I inform her. 

She hums, gathering up all my hair to tight into a ponytail. ”Then let's get some tacos, ” she says. ”I’m in the mood for something spicy.” She pats my back, signalling for me to stand. 

I do and look into the mirror, smiling. I always liked it when she brushed my hair.

”Common, we still got an hour left before our next class.” 

I nod. 

I can go for something spicy right now. 

We walk out of the bathroom, Buttercup holding the door open for me. I bow to her in thanks and she rolls her eyes, smiling. I smile too.

I walk into the hall. I stop and wait for Buttercup. I fiddle with my backpack over my shoulders and hold a plastic bag full of my wet clothes balled up together. 

I take a step and immediately, I gasp, getting cut off. I clasp a hand over my mouth as a boy race passes in front of me. He has jet place hair and moves like a blur.

Teachers are chasing after him. He must have done something bad. 

Buttercup places her hands on my shoulders. She leans forward to yell at him, “watch it, jackass!” I don’t like yelling next to my ear, but I don’t tell Buttercup that. She frowns, and lets go of my shoulders. She rocks back on her heels, scowling in his directing. “What an ass,” she mutters before starting up a brisk walk. 

I grab Buttercup's hand, forcing myself to walk as I try to calm my breathing from being spooked. I blink, looking back at the boy now gone and out of sight, trying to process why life flashing before my eyes. 

”Who was that?” I ask my sister, still looking over my shoulder. 

She shrugs, still not happy. “Probably Butch, that fucking ass,” she says casually. 

From what it sounds, I don’t think she likes him very much or maybe the night before. 

I frown as her sailor’s mouth. I really don’t like it when she swears but I’m not going to ask her to stop. It’s part of her personality and she knows not to swear at certain times. That’s all I can ask her for and as much as I expect from her. 

“Butch?” I question. I think we went to the same elementary school but I don’t really remember him. Elementary school was a blur while mom was in the hospital. I’ve blocked a lot of things out since then and didn't care to remember. 

I have heard about some of the things he and his brothers he did though. I've heard of him mean he can be. One time he and his brothers vandalized the school cafeteria the last day of school before spring break. No one even knew it had been down until after the winter break. 

It was raw and messy. I don't think they had a real plan of artist skills for whatever they did, but I strangely loved every bit of it. 

“Yeah, let's just go,” she says,” I could eat a horse.”

I giggle. I bet she could. I would make good money on the bet.

I look back in the direction Butch and the teachers ran. I can't seem to pull them away. Maybe my eyes are lingering too long? 

I turn and force myself to look forward. I squeeze Buttercup’s hand, letting her lead me through the sea of stray students. ”Yeah, I’m hungry too.” 

I really want to look behind me.   
  
I force myself to think of something else. ”So, got any plans for prom?” she asks me. 

Dang it, why didn't I think of that? 

I feel sheepish. I don't. Blossom has plans and I don't. Does Buttercup? ”Do you?” I ask. 

She smirks, chuckling to herself. Buttercup isn't built for small, family-friendly parties like prom and get-togethers with adult supervision. Buttercup _is_ the adult running the party. She can play family-friendly and be the proper daughter that can smile and say _please_ and _thank you_ to guests at our father’s parties but Buttercup isn't looking for a goody-goody party for kids. 

”I’ll be spending it with my boyfriend, ” she says.

We stop at my locker and I toss the bag of wet clothes into my locker along with my other stuff. 

I already knew she wouldn't be going to prom. I don’t blame her. I both really do and really don't want to go either. I don't have a boyfriend to take me and no guys have asked me yet. 

I look at my pink wrapping-paper covered locker door with pictures of my friends and family framed with sharpie and stickers. It looks out of place with the dark blues and grays of the school. I fiddle with an old corner that's ripped and the pull on it so it peels. I haven't touched it since my first tear here. It might be time to change my style a little. 

I close my locker door and lock it. ”What’s his name again?” I ask. 

She hums, looking down at her phone, ” Ace.”   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter. Please drop a comment down below and leave a like. ❤️
> 
> This is my first time writing a PPG fic so please go easy on me.


	2. Green Snake Eyes

I stand outside room 302 as Mr. Bowers told me what to do. I wait for the teacher to open the door. I stand off to the side, staying out of people’s way. I didn’t want to be troublesome. I've already gotten in trouble one too many times today. 

My gym teacher, Ms. Harding, bless her soul, always let's is out early to shower and get changed with a few minutes left to spare. I'm grateful not to smell like sweat but the double shower today could have been avoided. 

I've never been in detention before. I don't even know what to do. If TV has taught me anything, it's that it's awful and full of mean kids. 

Buttercup told me during lunch that that isn't how the school does it. The teachers are on a schedule to watch the kids. The classes are usually filled with two maybe four students locked in a class without their phones or devices in different classes so that they are spread out and can't cause that much trouble. 

I wish I had brought a book. If I had known this would have happened today, would have brought one. 

It still scares me to be locked in a classroom for an hour with some of the bad kids. What if they're really mean? 

The bell rings and I shrink into the wall best I can to let other students pass by. I feel a little embarrassed standing there, waiting to be taken into detention. I really didn't want to go into that classroom. 

Once all the students exist, I enter the class. An elderly woman sits at the desk, scribbling something down on the worksheets she's must be marking. Ms. Cranberr, if I remember correctly. She was my math teacher in first year. She got my name wrong through the whole year and I could never find it in my heart to correct her. 

I sit myself at the front of the class. I take out my phone and laptop out for her to take. I clasp my hands together and wait. Maybe if I'm lucky enough, maybe I would show, or maybe they would be nice. 

”Oh dear, ” she says, ” I'm sorry but I'll have to ask you to leave, ” she says. She packs up her bag and walks over to the desk I'm sitting at. ”This class is reserved for detention.”

I smile at her sheepishly. ”Yes, that's why I'm here, ” I say. 

”Oh!” she laughs like I don't look like I belong here. I really don't with how babish I look. ”You must be here to set a good example for that other delinquent,” she chuckles. “Well, I’ll just take these then and let you do your work,” she says, taking my phone and laptop into a bin. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let the other boy see that you have your phone and he does not. You’ll get it back once the hour is up and the office for you to pick up.” 

_No_ , I want to say. _I did a bad thing_ , I want to correct her, but instead I only smile. I can’t find it in myself to correct her. 

She stands at the door with the bin on her hip. We wait for a few minutes in silence. The silence seems to go on forever and I wonder if I’m just goi NT to be sitting here alone for the next hour.

A security guard comes in with a boy with black hair. “Here ya go Ms. Cranberr,” he says, shoving the boy with jet black hair that could rival Buttercup’s, is into the class. 

I straighten out, notting how similar he looks to the guy that cut me off at lunch. 

“Mr, Joe,” the elderly lady tuts,” how many times must I tell ya—“

”Yeah, yeah,” he scoffs, handing over his phone,” just take it.” He waltzes into the class with a stone cold face and hands chives into his hoodie pocket. 

His emerald eyes gloss over me, but even in his eyes, he knows I don't belong. His black hair is styled back, a few strains falling over his forehead. 

I can feel my throat tighten up as his eyes seeming lock against mine, trying to figure me out with his stoic face. 

I feel my body shrink a bit under his gaze. A jerk a little, feeling the bounce of him throwing himself down into the seat a few desks behind me. I can feel his eyes burn into the back of my head. I don’t want to move.

Ms. Cranberr looks over at him, eyes not even sparing a single glance my way. “Now you know the rules: no talking, and think about what you’ve done.” 

I watch as she locks the door. I fiddle with my fingers and bite my lower lip. Some part of me wished she would stay. At least then I wouldn’t be alone with him. But, fate isn't on my side. She shuts the door and gives the handle a few giggles to make sure it was locked properly before turning away, leaving me alone with...him. 

I continue to fiddle with my thumbs and pulling at my fingers. It's so quiet. I don't like the quiet, almost at much as I don't like the dark. He’s so quiet behind me. I can’t even hear a creek behind from him or breathing. 

I want to look behind me to see if he's even breathing.

I force myself to continue to look down at my fingers. I can't stop my leg from bouncing nervously, I can still feel his eyes on the back on my neck. I want to rub the back of my neck to make him stop, I don't want his eyes to bare into me. 

Do I really not belong here so much that he's judging me with his eye? I must be so out of place.

I look down at my banana yellow shirt with a single baby blue ballon in it. My face is hot with embarrassment. My hair was in pigtails earlier gosh darn it! 

I’m so stupid. Of course he’s judging me, I don’t belong here. I shouldn't even be here.   
  
I take in a deep breath and straighten my posture. 

I have to say something.

Maybe he isn't as scary as I first believed. Maybe he isn’t judging me? He might be very nice even with his scary and stoic look. No one is truly bad and I can't judge him by his cover, though he did cut me off earlier today. But he didn't know I was there, he couldn't have known. 

I take in a deep breath and push myself up from the desk. I pause, finally hearing something behind me. I can hear his chair being brushed backwards. I hear his footsteps and for a moment I think he’s heading my way until I hear the window open.

I look over my shoulder an turn to the window. 

He’s sitting on the open windowsill, looking down at the ground. 

Oh my God.

He's gonna jump. 

I feel myself holding my breath as he’s perched himself on the window. He looks undeserved and rather calm. 

Don't panic, Bubbles, that high of a jump can't kill him. 

Then he looks to the tree. Then I see the tree. I sigh in relief, I'm an idiot. _Of course, he's going to climb down the tree, Bubbles you, idiot.  
_

He’s going to leave. He's going to skip detention and leave me here alone. Being alone is worse than being alone with no one talking to me.

I have to say something before he leaves. I have to think of something.

I swallow hard on the spit that's gathering in my mouth. I slowly walk forward. He's winding up, his muscles flexing. He’s about to jump to the tree.

 _Say anything Bubbles! You can’t mess this up, just say hi._

”What are you doing?” I ask and I feel completely dumb asking. I already know what he's doing. 

I force myself to smile at my dumb choice of words. 

_I'm so dumb. Bubbles you’re so fricken dumb!_

His muscles relax and turns back to me with a cold glare. I shiver under his dark emerald eyes and a deep frown. He has a bruise under her left eye that’s swollen purple.

I still try to smile even though his face scares me. 

He looks like a villain or a bully from the movies. With his messy black hair and green snake eyes and the small scars on his face, he could be the next big bad. 

He just sits there, glaring back at me with his stone-cold green eyes. Those green eyes...

Finally, he speaks and I don't think my ears can take it. 

”You don't really think I'm gonna sit here for a whole hour, do you?” he asks. His voice is low and steady.

I suck in a breathe. 

He goes to jump again.

I don't think he expects me to answer with how ready he looks to jump. I didn't expect myself to speak either. 

”Well, we could always talk, maybe?” I say. I want to punch myself. 

_Nooooooo Bubbles, you idiot!_

Of course, he doesn't want to talk to you, that's why he's leaving. Get that through your head, dummy. 

His frown breaks for a moment into a small grin. It's so small that if I wasn't looking at his lips, I probably wouldn't have seen it. But I did and a little bit of hope is restored deep within me. Maybe he doesn't dislike me.

”Maybe next time, babe.” Then he's gone—jumping to the tree and climbing down and I sit and watch him. 

_Babe? Who calls a stranger babe anymore?_ It made me want to laugh a little. Maybe he's just being funny—friendly! Maybe he isn't so bad. Maybe we could be friends.

I sigh, leaning my body against the window. I should have stopped him. I should have grabbed him but I didn't. 

I go to close the window but stop. He needs a way to get back in, but it's cold.   
  
I sigh and leave it. I'll just suffer through the chilly air. Note: bring a jacket tomorrow. Also doing get your jacket wet from a hose.

It's a long 2 hours alone and I'm freezing.

All I can think about is his green eyes. Those green-snake-like eyes that seemed to sink permanently into my skin and give me the chills and worse chill then the air leaking into the room. It's like those eyes made there home under my skin and moving around. His glare is so powerful, sometimes look over my shoulder, wondering if he just slinked back to quietly like a predator, but no, it's only my imagination. 

”Alright, Bubbles, ” I tell myself. ” All things happen for a reason. And maybe that reason is to make a new friend, ” I say and I smile.

_Okay, Bubbles, three weeks and you're going to make a new friend._

With my new goal set out, I continue to draw. What else was I gonna do for the next two hours? 

* * *

”Bubble, ” my father presses with a gentle voice, ” you barely touched your food, ” he says, pointing at my untouched plate of beef and mashed potatoes and gravy. “Was detention that bad?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No,” I say,” it was just really quiet...and lonely.”

Because the only other guy there left me there alone to scribble on the whiteboard in silence. At least I got my homework down. We barely talked and just like that he was gone.

But I'm determined to make him my friend.

He wasn’t even there to pick up his phone. He left me alone freezing from the open window. So it seems like he doesn't come back once he ditches. He even rushed Buttercup and me at lunch and he didn’t even apologize, counterpoint, I don’t think he even knows.

Maybe he's just shy? 

He didn't seem to hate her and that's good. 

Yeah, I can't jump to conclusions. Maybe he's just shy or he didn't see me. He was running pretty fast.

I look over to Blossom, who’s reading a book at the table. ”Bloss, you're doing it again, ” I say. I look over to my dad, who’s attention is now on her instead of me.

Sorry, Bloss, I just really don't want to talk about today and Buttercup isn't here to put attention on either. You were my last hope.

”Oh, sorry, ” she says, sliding the book into her lap. ” It's just a fascinating read, ” she says with a shy smile. 

Dad shakes his head, smiling, ”Blossom, you know the rules, no reading at the table.”

”Sorry, ” she says. 

I smile, just comfortable to slip back into the background and listen to them talk about literature. 

I didn’t want them knowing further of my shenanigans at school today. I got detention today and for the next few weeks. At least dad didn't have a heart attack. 

As much as I love to talk, I just didn't want to talk today. I rather listen. 

Buttercup is the only one that understands. She was the one that knows what it’s like to be in detention before with the whole food fight and frog incident and all. 

I smile at the memory. They made her and other trouble makers clean up the whole cafeteria. She was so mad that day. She smelt like Lasagna for _days_. 

Once dinner is done, I'm on dish duty. I turn on the radio as I wash and rinse the plates and dishes. Blossom is putting away the leftovers while dad wipes off the counters and table. Today was Buttercup’s turn to clean the table and countertop, but she had a date tonight. Luckily. 

I didn't mind washing dishes, in fact, I've liked doing the dishes since I was little. I remember begging my mom to let me help her with washing up the kitchen. It was one of the only times I could spend time with her alone, that and when I would watch her paint in her studio.

But the joy of cleaning is a different feeling to actually spending time with that special someone. I'm so happy for Buttercup, even though I'm a little jealous. I wish I could have that happiest. 

I finish drying the dishes and I release, I'm alone. I sigh and put them away back into their respective places. I mark off today with a red marker. Tomorrow it will be my time to make dinner. 

Lucky us. 

None of dad’s cooking. 

Not to brag, but I'm pretty handy in the kitchen. And I don't think anyone wants another week of liver and onions. 

I head up to the stairs. As I pass through the hall, I notice the walls and the lack of pictures of mom. I hadn’t released that there were all packed away since she died. 

I pause, looking at the picture of mom just after she gave birth to us. She looks so tired and her smile is so bright. I touch my hair and smile to myself. I have the same blond hair, though it’s short and unruly as Buttercup, I’ll blame that on the labour. I didn’t look much like my mom besides the blonde hair. I sigh, smiling to myself. I wish I could have known her longer.

I go back to walking to my mom’s old art studio and study.

I turn on the light, smiling at the room, that's now mine.

Blossom had a chance to have this room. But wanted nothing to do with this room and Buttercup had no use for it.

So it's mine.

I tried not to change it too much, practically not at all. I didn't want more of her to leave me. 

The walls are yellow and covered in her old paintings and old plans she never got to finish. It's filled with large drawers and old labels that she hadn't changed. Drawers filled with the same colour paints and different crafts’, paper and materials. All mine.

I try so hard not to change anything. I like my mom’s style. It was one of the few things left that was hers.

I pull out a painting that I've been working on for a while. 

I put on my headphones and play my playlist.  
  
I prop my knees up onto a large chair, the top of the painting resting on my knees, it resting against the desk. I start painting It's a blue sea. Buttercup jokes that I have too many blues in my painting. I don't understand, 23 shades of blues are never too much, in fact, I still need more. 

I'm having trouble figuring out of the best who to get today out of my head. Maybe painting water isn't the best idea. I shiver and decided to stop painting. I can still feel the chill of the air freezing my skin. 

I clean my brushes and put them away. I move onto a clean canvas, sponging it down with white paint. I set it down, waiting for it to dry. 

I spin a pencil in my fingers and flip through my sketchbook, wondering what to paint.   
  
I start sketching, not really having a plan. I just let my hand and mind do their thing. I came up with a snake. One big and scary and black with green eyes on top of a pile of rocks.

”Huh,” I say, turning over the drawing. Dark and scary animals aren’t really my style, but I like how it turned out. 

I sketch out the drawing onto the canvas. Once happy how it turned out, I smile and begin painting. 

I start off with the background with a base green. I cover the sketch of the rock nest with a base grey. Slowly I add in hints here and there with other greys and blacks. I add dark blues and greens. I mix together a base black and a hint of white and cover up the light sketch of the snake’s body with a dark grey. 

I look at the clock and rub my eyes. It's nearly ten. I yawn and place down my painting. I'm done for the night. 

I brush my teeth and wash and moisturize my face. I comb out my long blond hair before trying it up into a bun. I pull over my dad’s old grey Townsvile university shirt over my bare chest and slip on my baby pink sorts. 

I walk over to my phone charger and place my phone on the table and plug it in. 

My room is pink, the same colour as the room we used to share all three of us, my sisters and I. I couldn't bring myself to sleep without the comforting pink all around me. I would have missed it too much. When we were older, Buttercup and I moved down the hall.

We now have control of the left hall, our rooms next to one another. Dad can't get through the hall without running int at least one of us. My bedroom window lines up with the tree in the backyard. Buttercup normally uses it to sneak in and out when she heads out. I don't try to stop her anymore after so many failed attempts. All my paintings covering the walls. The bed is centred from the right side of the door with one bedside table on each side with a lamp on both of them. I have a dresser and a walk-in closet and a large window leading out to the tree. It's not as big as my old room, but it is sure is a lot more private.

And it's all mine. 

I turn on a lamp before walking back over to my bedroom light and turning it off. I flinch a little as it goes dark and the only light is from my bedside lamp. It's childish but the dark is still a little scary, or rather what comes out of the darkness. I can't help it. I always feel like the boogieman is gonna come out from behind me and drag me away into the black. 

I close the door and walk over to my bed. 

I turn on my phone one last time for the day. I scroll through my playlists and picks my sleeping playlist. I set the timer to stop playing music in 2 hours. I set my phone down and settle down in my want blankets. I snuggle into my old stuff octopus. It was the last present my parents have me together for my sixth birthday.

I shut my eyes and focus on my breathing. I listen to the soft piano play, it slowly cradling me to sleep.

Then I hear a snap.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a like and a comment down below.


	3. Bus Bribing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don’t scream at boy’s through a megaphone if you don’t want the attention.

  
I sit on the bus, watching as the buildings pass by. My headphones are blasting. I sit alone.

Blossom left early for morning choir practice and Buttercup opted to ride her motorcycle instead. I could have ridden with Buttercup, I have before. I don't normally take the bus. Normally dad or Buttercup would drive me. I smile at the thought that Blossom won't go anywhere near Buttercup’s motorcycle. She calls it a death trap, I thought it was awesome. 

But I just want to sit alone today. 

I have marks on my skin from Buttercup sleeping close to me last night. I covered it up with my baby blue hoodie and leggings. I snagged one of Buttercup’s leather jackets and put my hair into a messy braid. 

I can’t get my mind off of Buttercup. She scared the crap out of me last night. She came home pretty late last night, even sneaking through _my_ window.

She rushed me in the dead of night and covered my mouth before I could scream and harshly shushed me. She shoved me back into the bed making studying sounds. I yanked on her arms and kicked my legs with tears in my eyes because I thought this thing in the far of the night was going to kill me. I only calmed down once I saw it was really her. 

She slumped back on my bed and sighs. ”God, you can be so loud, ” she says quietly. Her breath reeked of alcohol and she had dark marks on her neck. I force myself not to look at the dark marks on her neck. 

I sit up. ”What the heck?!” I whisper harshly and glare at her. I pulled up my blanket to my chin, frowning at her. ”You should have told me that you'd be sneaking in, ” I tell her. 

”I know, I know. I'm sorry, ” she says. ”I just lost track of time.”

She always seemed to be losing track of time. 

I always wonder what she's doing. Definitely, drinking and hanging out with her boyfriend but what else? She always seems to be having fun and a lot happier nowadays. 

Buttercup always used to be so angry all the time. Especially when we were younger. I'm happy she's a lot happier now but I wish she would come home early. 

She threw herself back on my bed. Her hair is sprawled out and her eyes are locked on the ceiling. She's smiling softly, not seeming to mind that just a few minutes ago, she gave me a heart attack. 

”You should join me next time, ” she says calmly. 

I roll my eyes, trying to smile through my heart is still pounding in my chest. I just want to hide under the blanket. 

”Yeah, like I'll fit in, ” I say jokingly. 

She chuckles, unmoving. ”I’m serious,” she says. “You might have fun. Might even find yourself a guy.” 

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “With my pigtails and a cute top,” I say, mockingly boasting about my fashion style. “And I’m sure any guy would be interested in a girl that still sleeps with stuffed animals.” I throw my octopus plush at her. 

She laughed and hugged my plush. “Some guys are into it.” She smirks at me. 

”You’re weird,” I tell her. Finally, I can feel my body calm. 

“Yup,” she huffs as she hops up, “And sexy too,” she snickers and crawls next to me. I fake gag at her. I sit there, watching her toss-up the covers and snuggles under either them. 

She snuggles close to me. Her let her jacket zippers dig into me and her hair is scratchy as her boats with dirty my bedsheets. I don’t mush her away. I hug her and close my eyes. 

”Maybe next time,” I tell her. 

I would probably regret saying it later.

When she doesn’t answer, I can only assume she’s asleep. I fall asleep as well soon after. 

I snap back to reality as the bus jerks to a spot. Slowly kids pile onto the bus, laughing getting louder and kids seemingly yelling at one another. I turn up the volume and huddle into the window, hugging my bag tighter.

No one sat with me. And I’m getting strange looks. Even my friends seem to give me strange looks. Word spreads fast about what happened yesterday that it Princess made our little fight more dramatic than it really was. 

I scowl, feeling eyes burn in the back on my neck and the whispers. No one is gonna be brave enough to talk to the richest girl in Townsville that is going to ruin my life. Princess will probably mess up my friend’s lives if she sees them talking to me. 

Of course, Princess would say something dumb and get all the kids talking. 

Hopefully, some shopping after detention will do me some good. Maybe I can spice up my wardrobe? 

”Hey...Bub...s...” I hear. I think nothing of it until there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn to look at my friend Lana who is sat beside me.

I pause my music and look at her. I give her a smile,” Hey,” I say. she seems a little nervous. I think I know about what. 

“Is it true you really did all that stuff, yesterday?” She asks.

I frown and roll my eyes,” what did Princess tell you?” I ask her. 

Her cheeks go pink and she stiffens. “That you shoved her into a pillow full of snakes and beat her up so bad she isn’t coming to school.” She looks a little ashamed. 

I can't contain my laughter. 

There is no way in hell I _would_ beat her up that bad. I _could_ , maybe then she would leave me alone. 

“She was hurting Charlie,” I say and her face goes white. She knows how much I love that snake. Dad won’t let me have a pet snake or any other animal for that matter.

Not to be dramatic, but I would do anything for that cutie. 

“I was washing him and she decided to move him from his bath.” I say,” I did pull her hair though—“ I stop, knowing her eyes are no longer on me but behind me.Everyone seems to be looking past me.

I turn.

She wasn't startled by my story, she was started about what's going on outside. And I can't blame her or anyone else staring. The bus in near the rough part of town and outside fighting by the bus stop, is the RowdyRuff boys. 

_Wow, so this one of the famous RowdyRuff Boy’s street fights?_ I’ve heard about them, I think I might have heard of fights at school, but not this. People are stopping and starring. _Why are they staring? Why am I starting?_

Why was everyone staring, it's because it was amazing the way they move. It's like a dance, a dance with blood and fists and it's so stunning.

I watch like everyone else, my eyes glued to the window like a kid stuck to a tv. They looked like they were having fun even with blood and fists flying in their strange dance. I cringe, sinking deeper into the leather of my seat every time a blow is exchanged. 

I spot members of the Gang Greene Gang also in the brawl. That can't be right. Most of the Gang Greene members are their 20’s. They are just _punks._ And they’re fighting along side teenager in a street fight.

 _Stupid boys._

Where are the police? Isn’t anyone going to say anything? 

I cover my mouth in horror as the blonde boy is socked in the jaw. It looked brutal. It's a cluster of boy’s throwing fists to see who can stand the longest.

I grit my teeth when I hear it. There’s cheering.

_Why are people cheering for this?_

The bus is even stopped, with the door open and the bus driver is even calmly leaning over his steering wheel and looking out at the street. 

I feel my heart pound quickly in my chest as Butch, his black hair flying and green eyes shimmering with a dark glean thrusts his fist into a man’s gut and throws him over his shoulder and onto the hard, black cement. I feel my body trimmer and the heavy weight falls over me like I was the one being slammed into the cement. 

”Is this normal?” I ask, turning to look at Lana. 

She looks over to me in a second, nodding before her eye return to the fight. ”Yeah, all the time, ” she says. ”They make us nearly late a lot but it's never boring to watch, ” she says. Her eyes are stuck on the action. 

I look to the other students. No one seems to share my discomfort to the street drawl. I'm okay with fighting and boxing and wrestling but it's never that intense and they looked so hurt. Some students are handing money over to one another while others are cheering out names for the boys in the fight.

Boomer, Brick and Butch.

”Why don't they just get on the bus?” I ask. 

Just stop fighting and come onto the bus where it's age. Aren't they worried about making everyone else being late? They could get hurt. I know the bus driver is nice but why is he waiting? 

Jackson leans over the chair behind me and smiles wide. I'm surprised, but I guess the drama about me kicking Princesses’ butt is over. ”They won't come on until they win, or they get money or something.” His eyes flicker back to the fight and then back at me. “They never back down without a reason, ” he says before going back to cheering. 

That is stupid. 

I frown to myself. _How do I get them to stop?_ _What do I do?_ I think to myself.

What would Buttercup do? She would probably go outside and start beating the crap out of them and win. No, I'm not Buttercup. I can't just hope out and start brawling like normal. Blossom would probably bore them to death or convince the bus driver to just drive away. Honestly, he should just drive off, but the bus driver seems to nice to just do that.

Looks like I'm gonna have to get creative. Good, I'm good at that. 

I look out the window. I can feel my heart pounding and my face heat. I stand, ” Excuse me, ” I say, brushing by Lana and into the aisle. 

I slip on my bag and march up to the front of the bus, ignoring the cheering hurting my ears.

I turn and face the bus driver. I pull out a ten-dollar bill and I hold it out to the bus driver. He looks up at me with confusion before his eyes travel down to the ten-dollar bill.

He raises his eyebrow like there's some sort of catch. ”I'll give you this ten-dollar bill if you let me use megaphone and do as I say to make sure we aren't late, ” I order. ”Please.” 

It's a long shot and I hope I'm not wounding rude.

He doesn't say anything for a moment. It's like the questions are turning around in his head at my words. 

He laughs, shaking his head like its the funniest home he's heard in a long while. He puts his hand on mine and gently guides my hand down to my side.

”No need for that little missy. If you got an idea to reel those boys in, go for it.”

I smile. He points down to the emergency kit. I quickly open it and pull out a small megaphone. I look it over and turn it on.

My heart is pounding so hard.

It's like watching Buttercup fight, but without the safe feeling of knowing she’d be okay and come out on top. 

I can’t breathe.

This is a bad idea. I should just sit down and forget about this whole thing. It’s not my fault if we’re late for school, it won’t be my fault if they get hurt. I should just sit back down in my seat and think about what dress I’m where to prom. But I can’t let them get hurt. 

I step to the bus’ open doors. I hold the megaphone up toy mouth and take in a deep breath. 

What was their names again? Great, in the heat of the moment I have forgotten. Ms. Cranberr called Butch, Joe. Joe has to be their last name. I just need to address them as a unit. 

“Hey, Joe brothers!” I yell loudly into the already loud megaphone. People in the bus stop cheering, the people on the street stop to stare; and the fight stops in its tracks, honestly I surprised myself. But I grabbed the Joe brother’s attention. Along with the Gang Greene Gang and the other punks I don’t recognize. 

My chest hurts and I can tell my face is pink. I'm making a total fool out of myself but no turning back now. I have their attention, and I have to abuse it.

I hold up my wallet and wave it at them, ”If you get on this bus in five seconds, I'll give you $50 each!” I tell them.

_Looks like I'm not going shopping today. Oh well, I have work anyway._

The three brothers exchange a look of bewilderment. I notice Butch glaring at me. I feel a shiver crawl up my spine again.

The boy with the red hair and baseball cap cups his hands to his mouth and yells. ”We’re kinda in the middle of something here, babe!”

I frown, ” _$50_ each if you get on this bus right now!” I say and I regret it repeating it again. ”You got five seconds before these doors close and you're late for school and no money!” I'm so stupid for putting myself at risk like this. What of those goons think I'll give money if they ask? _Stupid, stupid Bubbles._

This time, the blonde brother yells,” what?! I gotta test! You can’t leave!”   
  
I don’t wait to reply,” Then get on the bus,” I say, calmer through the megaphone. 

Butch is still scowling at me. I can't back down now.

”You don't expect them to stop in the middle of a fight, do ya, little lady?” the boss of the Gang Greene Gang snickers. He had a sharp, white wide grin on his face, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses and long oil-black hair slicked back in a ponytail. He has a slight go-tee and caramel skin. Even behind his cool smile, I can tell he’s just as baffled as the rest of them. I don’t blame them. I have baffled myself. 

My frown deepens. Does he think I’ll give up? I’m already in trouble for the next three weeks and Princess has spread rumours about me at an alarming rate. I don’t need to be late too. 

”Five!” I start counting. 

”Wait! Common! That's not fair!” the blonde yells, panicked. He turns to his two brothers,” she can’t just do that, can she?” he asks. 

I should say something. I should say something but I can't stop now. They may convince me to stop. 

”Four!”

”Is this Bitch serious?” the boy with the red cap snarls. 

I frown and feel my cheeks heat. Now I wish they don't come. 

_Rude boys_.

”Three!” 

I lock eyes with Butch. His eyes are emotionless and he has a bored expression on his face. He sighs and picks up his black backpack and starts walking to the bus. 

I'm honestly startled and I nearly stop counting. _Nearly_ , but I can't. I keep up a stony scowl for the two other boys that stand there, watch g their brother stroll over to me. I won't let myself be weak, I'm already being stupid as ever, I can't stop now. 

”Two!”

“Fine, whatever! We’re coming!” The redhead yells. 

”For fuck’s sake!” Boomer bellows out like he's in pain. 

Both the brothers, Brick and Boomer, I know remember, grab their respective orange and grey backpack and rush to the the bus behind Butch, who is just sauntering towards me. I lower my hand as they reach the bus door. They stop just a foot from the bus and glare up at me. Their eyes are filled with suppressed anger like they want to punch me. I want to punch me too. 

”One, ” I say softly, smiling down at them. 

I’m please with myself. 

I didn't realize how big they are, but then I remember Butch passing me the other day. He is big. I'm probably shaking, and the last thing they expected to see today, for anyone to see today. They look so big and roughed up from the fighting. I force myself to keep smiling and move out of the way to let them onto the bus. I flip through my wallet and hand them each $50’s. They take the money, greedily and push by me to find a seat at the back. 

I sigh, not releasing I was holding my breath as there large guys faced me. 

Goodbye hard-earned money. You shall be avenged. 

They look grumpy but pleased with the money. 

I, and the rest of the bus, watch in silent awe as the Joe brother’s kick the popular kids out from the back seats of the bus. They lounge in the picked and graffitied seats like kings on thrones. 

I put the megaphone back into the case, ” thank you, ” I say softly and turn back to see the eyes of everyone on the bus now staring at me and three pairs of eyes glaring at me that I knew would be locked on me. 

I nervously smile. I hustle to sit down at the front and shrink into myself. I feel tears in my eyes and I'm trembling. I pull off my backpack and hug it close to my chest. The butter-yellow backpack with pink and blue butterflies with too many key-chains and buttons on it to count is comforting. My head is screaming and face red. 

_OH MY GOD, BUBBLES, YOU IDIOT!_ My brain screams at me. 

First Princess, and now this? What the hell is wrong with me? What did I just do? 

I put in my headphones and close my eyes. I just let the music take me somewhere else, trying to forget what I have just done. 

God, that was too stressful. 

* * *

I rush from class to class, trying to survive the day. I got questions about Princess and news from the bus sure travels fast. I find this out first hand at lunch. 

I sat at my normal lunch table outside, surrounded by my friends and strangers bombarding me with questions and remarks about my supposed _bravery_. “What was it like?” “That was so cool!” “What did they’re faces look like?” 

I try to answer as few as possible. Luckily I didn't have wait long, for my savours are here. 

I look up from my ham and cheese sandwich to spot Blossom and Buttercup sit in front of me. Buttercup has messy helmet hair and leans over the table with a smirk on her lips. Blossom is sitting tall with long straight running down her back and the same red bow holding it with a stern frown on her lips and cold eyes. I want to cry out in relief. My sisters, my savours.

The people swarming the table clear. It's as if they know I'm about to get a talking to. I suddenly wish to join the flock of people leaving.

”So, baby Bubbles is at it again?” Buttercup asking with a smirk boldly plastered on her face. 

My cheeks are pink. ”I’m not a baby, ” I pout, which is very baby-like. This only makes Buttercup laugh. _Way to go Bubbles._

”What were you thinking?” Blossom asks sternly. I shrink under her icy pink-eyed glare. 

”I’m sorry.” I feel so small. I thought what I do was kinda cool, even if it was really stupid. 

”You could have gotten in trouble, ” she scolds. ”What if those ruffians expect you to give them more money, huh? Then what? Were you even thinking? Bubbles, I'm serious, this was a stupid idea.” 

I know. It was stupid and I wasn't thinking. But it was kinda fun. 

”I’m sorry, ” I say. 

Buttercup let's out a scoff, ” common leader girl, Bubbles was awesome.” I smile a little. 

”No, it was stupid, ” Blossom says. 

Buttercup rolls her eyes and crossed her leather arms over her chest. ”So what? It was still awesome.”

Blossom sighs and lets her head fall onto the tabletop. I stiffen because I don't know what she's thinking. She straightens up with a deep breath. ”Fine, ” she says slowly. ”It was pretty cool, ” she gives me a small smile. I give her a small smile back. ”Just be careful. I don't want you getting hurt Bubbles, ” she says.

I nod. 

”So, ” Blossom presses, ” how was it?” she asks with a cheeky smile. Buttercup joins her smile. 

I groan and playfully flop on the top of the tabletop. ”I was so scared!” I groan. It feels so good to get this off my chest. 

* * *

I sit in my spot from yesterday’s detention, with my hands together and themes fiddling together. I have already surrender my phone to Ms. Cranberr. Just waiting on Butch to come. 

I really didn't want to see him after what happened this morning. 

It's a short wait when he's shoved into the class and throws his phone into the tub along with mine. His eyes glance down at me, but I refuse to meet his green eyes as he passes. 

He probably thinks I'm even more stupid from this morning. Maybe he thinks I could give him money if he shakes me down enough?

Blossom is right, I'm super dumb. 

I hear Butch throw himself back into his chair and the sound of his boots hitting the top of the desk. 

Ms. Cranberr sighs and shakes her head. Again, he eyes ski over me and locks on Butch as she tuts to herself. “You know the rules. No speaking and think about what you've done, ” she says. 

”Have a nice afternoon, ” I say with a smile. She returns my smile with one from her wrinkling lips. 

“Thank you, dear. You too.” She locks and shuts the door, leaving me alone with Butch. 

I pull out my book from my backpack and set it atop the desk. I flip open to the page I last left on. I keep my head down, not noticing the shadow looming over me, or rather, refusing to acknowledging it. I could hear his footsteps but I refuse to look up. 

I scrunch my nose up and scowl, trying to give off the illusion that I’m focusing on my novel. I stiffen and snap my head up as he slams down the $50’s I gave him this morning. He looks down at me with cold eyes and a closed off aura.

”You’re really dumb, ya know that?” he says.

I frown up at him, following him walk towards the window and close my book. “I’m not the one getting into street fights before school.” I snap back at him as calmly as I can muster.

Butch stops and turns. He chuckles, turning back to look at me with a sneer of a smirk that didn't look too right but strangely handsome is a weird way, that made me sick for thinking that. I didn't a dirty Joe boy could have such a smile. Or even share it with me. 

”You normally get into street fights, blondie?” he asks, daring me. 

”No, ” I answer. He already knew the answer by his knowing smirk. And that makes me mad. I fiddle with the money in my hands. ”You're stupid for not keeping the money, ” I say. 

Somehow his smirk stretches further. He looks like the Cheshire cat with his playful, cat-like eyes and his wife and strange smile. He shrugs half-heartedly. ”I don't take money from babies, ” he says. 

_Rude boy._

”Well, _this_ baby, manipulated you to get on the bus,” I say. My chest is puffed out, like I got him though I'm not as big or tough as him.

” _Manipulated_?” he chuckles. He cocks his head to the side and shakes it slightly. Now I know I don't have him. ”That's a strong word. Baby, you gave me a reason to ditch that lame-ass fight, ” he says. 

”Then I helped, ” I say.

”You're still stupid, babe, ” he says. He's got me. I have notion to say to that. I am stupid. He turns and opens the window. ”But, if you're ever willing to get really stupid, you should ditch with me, ” he says, looking back at me with a cat-like grin. 

I feel my heart pound in my chest. Is he inviting me to ditch with him? 

I smile and cross my arms over my chest. ”Ask me for my name before you ask me to jump out a window with you, ” I say. I mockingly pretend to swoon, ” I only jump out windows with gentlemen.” 

”I know you're name, Blondie. You're Buttercup’s baby sister. I'm just not gonna say it, ” he says and shrugs. ”Good call anyway. You might chip a nail or dirty your shoes, ” he says mockingly. ”I'm not the sort of gentlemen you're looking for. Maybe next time.”

I nod.

”Maybe next time.” 

He turns and jumps. Not waiting for me to say another word.

I close the window, not wanting to freeze again. Sure I brought my jacket this time, but I'm not risking freezing for a boy that won't come back. 

I walk over to my desk and sit down. I take a deep breath and open my novel. I scream into the pages, letting my face hear up and my mind scream. Okay, good, he doesn't hate me, at least we’re being friendly. He seems nice enough and I'm sure we can be friends. 

I let my head fall into the desk and hold mine. ”I really am stupid, ” I mutter. ”Stupid, stupid Bubbles.” 

I sit and read my book, letting time blend together and time passes by. At first ten minutes feels like ten hours until time seeming goes by without my knowing until I'm let out by the nighttime security guard. 

Again, Butch didn't show up to reclaim his phone once the class door was opened. 

The cold air from the early night taking over hits my face when I step outside the school. I step off to the side and wait for my sister who doesn't know that I'm now out of detention. I turn on my phone and check my texts. I send Buttercup a quick message to come to pick me up.

I'm confused to see an unknown number. I think it’s spam but it doesn’t look like bot wrote it. I tap the icon and it takes me to the list of messages on the senders’ end. 

I feel sick. 

_‘You look lovely today.’_

_’you smell wonderful? What shampoo do you use?’_

_’I’ll buy it for you,’_

_‘Why won’t you answer me?!’_

_‘slut.’_

_‘Least you can do is reply to my complaints.’_

_’worthless whore, why won’t you answer me?’  
_

_’Sorry. I lost my temper for a moment.’_

I'm tempted to message them back.

I'm scared and hurt and confused. Who would have my number and would text me such horrible things? 

Only my sisters and dad have my number. Robin would never give my number away without asking me. I’m super careful who I give my number to, how could they have gotten my number? Who is this person? I can't think of anyone else who would have my number and no one I know would say such horrible things. 

I close my messages. I can feel my hands tremble as I put my phone into my pocket. I decide to ignore it for now.

I hope Buttercup gets her quickly. 

I'll try and deal with it later. Whatever and whoever it is. 


	4. Milly Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not another Milly Rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it. Please drop a like and leave a comment down below. I love reading comments and seeing how I can improve. ❤️

  
I continue to reserve messages as the night creeps forward.

I try to pick up a pattern of messaging but it doesn't resemble anyone I know. If maybe it was handwriting, I would be able to match it to someone. I can only tell that this person doesn't know anything about my personal life _yet._ It's creepy to think they know what I look like though. At least I know they haven't broken into my house. 

In the morning, I open my phone and find no new texts are found from the mystery number. It's somewhat of a relief to not wake up to mean messages but at the same time, I can't bear to not know what this person is doing.

At least when I read the texts, I can piece them together when they look at me. I can find them. I don't want to be left in the quiet. But I've learned another thing. This person isn't active during the morning. 

They must be busy during the mornings, or maybe they're sleeping. Or maybe they're watching me...

I shiver, hugging myself. I rub my arms, feeling gross inside. I don't feel safe. 

I go to the bathroom and clean myself up. I wash my face and put it in my contacts. I brush out my long blond hair and tie my hair back into a ponytail with a pink scrunchie. I slip on my white sweater and a navy blue knife-pleated skirt that stops just before my knees and black converse. 

I grab a smoothie that Buttercup made and place it into a water bottle. I catch a ride on the back of her bike.

I don't want to go on the bus for a while, I should have never gotten on that bus in the first place, really. 

In class, I’m scribbling down pictures in my scratch-book with my earbuds in. I’m not happy with any of my drawings. Nothing seems good enough to take over to carry over to paint on a larger canvas. I’ve scratched a mermaid and tried out a zombie unicorn for a random word generator. I let out a huff, staring down at my zombie unicorn emerging from a swamp, but I hate it. I love it, but I hate it. Looking at the unhinged jaw and blank eyes, snarling at whatever is off the page and charging into glorious battle. 

Maybe I’ll redraw or even paint it once my mind is all clear. I both love and hate this drawing. It’s so majestic and horrendous all at once. I know if my heart was in it, I would be able to make this truly disgustingly beautiful all at once. And I want to have my heart in it, but I can't. 

I turn the page over and start sketching small things littered around my desk. Pencil crayons, a book, my phone, the girl sitting across from me. Small and close things I can focus on and put detail into my surroundings. 

Someone pulls out my left earbud. “Hey, Bubbles, is it true you beat the shit out of Princess?” James whispers into my ear. I turn and touch my ear. I stare at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. 

”Why would I do that?” I say. I search his face to see his intent but I don’t have mind-reading abilities. “Where did you hear that?” 

I change my mind, I don't want to read minds. I want to erase minds. Then people will stop talking about it, can't talk about something you can't remember. 

He shrugs, still leaning over his chair. “Everyone is talking about it,” he says quietly and with a childish smile like he's telling me who has a crush on who likes in the first grade. ”What you did was really fucking ballsy.” 

I turn to fully face him. What did I do that was ballsy about spraying Princess with a hose?

Sure, no one would dare do it, but I was acting on instinct and didn't want to hurt her. Partly a lie. I want to punch her sometimes but I’m not going to go through with it. I'm not Buttercup. but not even Buttercup sees Princess worth a sore pair of knuckles.

If I was Buttercup, no one would bat an eye if I have her a good whack to the nose. The kids would laugh and slap her on the back. Maybe joke that she should have done worse or maybe a boy would buy her a soda. Maybe even talk crap about Princess a little and she would join in. 

I want to be as kickass as Buttercup. 

“That’s insane,” I say. “I just stopped her from hurting a snake,” I say. I don’t expect him to know who Charles is, bless his snaky heart. 

Does no one believe the fact that I only did what I did for an animal to be true? Why would he even ask?

He shrugs again. “Princess won’t shut up about it,” he says.

I frown.

It makes sense. Of course, she won’t shut up about it. It makes me nervous and a little mad that people believe her. They aren’t going to talk to me about something so small. If they do ask me, they believe her. It's a big school but lies to travel fast here. 

I remove my earbuds so I can fully focus on what he's saying. “Don’t people have better things to talk about?” I ask.

I know _the Mitch_ has plans for a food war next week last block between the jocks and cheerleaders vs. the band and choir kids and drama kids. That's fun

What about the additions to the school musical? Even Mike Smitch and Emma Branda getting caught having sex in the bathroom. Or prom coming up soon: dresses, dates, drinking, sex, yay, talk about that. Or anything else that’s going on, anything other than me. 

Don't talk about me.

”No, ” he chuckles. He shifts his weight and brings up his legs to sit crisscross. “You’re the hottest thing since Milly Rain.” 

_Milly Rain_. 

Arrested last year for almost murdering a teacher. He picked on her and pushed her to the breaking point. She nearly got away with it if it wasn’t for the night janitor pulling her off him and him and calling the police. Apparently, she was kicking and screaming, waving around a knife. She got a few stabs in too. She was crying and begging to die. She tried to kill herself after. She screamed about how much she hated that teacher. 

What Milly did and I what did are two different things. 

“I’m not gonna kill anyone,” I say. Plus she was being bullied and abused, I'm not.

“I know you aren’t;” he says,” that’s definitely not you. But I'm just saying, your little fight this week is on the same level as Milly.” 

I'm taken back.

 _On the same level? No, no, no, no._ I'm not planning to kill anyone nor do I have an intent to. It hurts to think that people think my small assault is on the levels of murder.

Milly was bullied beyond belief by her teacher and ever sexually abused by him. Her mother was a drug addict who just went through a divorce. It doesn't excuse what she did but I think anyone would snap after all the bad things happening to them. And people still joke about it. She's the victim that turned to murder.

I feel sorry for her even though what she did was wrong. No one should be pushed too far to want to commit murder and want to die. 

I stare at James with a stern look. ”I’m not Milly Rain, ” I tell him. 

I don't know what he says next, because I'm not listening. 

I don’t want to continue this conversation. I turn and go back to work on my sketching. I really didn't want to think that maybe I’m on the same level as Milly Rain.

I push back the thoughts of Milly and the messages so I can focus on my work. Maybe I’ll just paint flowers. Something simple and good. I never was good at dealing with my problems. Something simple and good is what I need. 

I continue with my day. Kids are still whispering about me and Princess’s little scuffle. I’m sure once the weekend is over.

I head to my locker to put my gym bag away before I head off to detention. I didn’t have any homework today, which is good besides the fact that I have nothing to do. Buttercup said I could bring her Nintendo Switch to detention, but I don’t think it’s alright for me to do so. I refused. Either way, the little sneak still stuck it into my bag, fully charged too.

I’m honestly tempted to just hand it in. Would they really notice if I don’t draw too much attention to it? I’m not just gonna leave it in my locker and handing it over when fully charged would be such a waste of precious gaming time. Buttercup would be crushed, she did charge it for me. 

”Hey, Bubbles, ” I hear someone say my name.

I turn to look at the person who called me out. 

It's Natia.

I and Natia aren’t exactly friends. We are friendly but she’s more of Princess’s friend more than anything really. We still talk to one another and she seems very nice. 

I feel my heart pound and my chest tightens when I see her. Gosh, I forgot how pretty she was. Her dark curly hair and dark skin are both really pretty. She really grew into her looks and knows it.

I remember back in middle school when she has short hair up in two buns on the top of her head with two pink scrunchies and braces with rainbow bands. She's so pretty and looks so much like a woman now. I pray for the day I can look as womanly as her. 

”Hey Natia, ” I say. I give her my best smile and push my Switch into my bag. 

She leans up against the lockers, arms crossed and smiling at me. ”It's so cool what you did to Princess, ” she says. 

Oh great. 

”Is it really?” I ask, smiling nervously. 

”Fuck yeah, ” she says. Her smile is wide and her dark eyes are shining wonderfully in the crappy school lighting. 

No, no it isn't cool, but the way she said it makes me feel really fricken cool. 

She's supposed to be Princess’s friend. I don't know why she’s propping me up like this when she’s been hanging around Princess for years now. 

”I just wanted to invite you to my party, ” she says. 

My jaw must have fallen and my eyes must have gone pop because she chuckles.

I can't believe my ears. _A party?_ No, I don't go to parties. More like I don't get invited to parties. Not ones with alcohol or big crowds, I don't get invited to parties. 

”It's next Friday at nine, ” she says, ”I’ll see you there?” she asks to point at me playfully. 

”Isn't weird to have a party before the prom?” I ask.

The way she throws her head back and laughs loudly makes me feel stupid. ”Everyone’s going to be partying, ” she says with a knowing grin. ”So, you in?” 

I nod.

”Wicked. I'll see you there, ” she says. Natia reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small slip of paper. 

Inside are her address, time and phone number. 

”Look out for the big blue house with loud music and a bunch of drunk people, ” she says. 

She leaves and I head off to detention. 

The bell rings, ending the day, and like clockwork, I slide into the empty class with Ms. Cranberr waiting for Butch.

I debate handing over my switch along with my phone but decide against it. I hand over my phone and sit as if I’m not hiding a gaming console in my bag. No, I’m not hiding anything at all.

Butch comes in but doesn’t hand his phone into the bin that Ms. Cranberr is holding. He takes his normal seat casually. She frowns and walks over to his desk and scowls at him.

”Phone, Mr. Joe?” she asks.

”Broke, ” he replies simply.

The elderly woman huffs and walks away to the door. She locks us in for the next two hours.

I get up and move to the same side of the room as the door. At the same time, Butch moved towards the window. I plop myself down along with my bag and pull out the Switch. I catch Butch’s eye as he looks at me, bewildered. 

”You snuck that in here?” he asks. 

My face is hot. Now I wished I had waited for him to leave. 

An idea pops into my head. 

”Want to play?” I ask, raising the Switch half-heartedly. I kinda wish I didn't say anything because my heart is pounding hard in my chest and my face is hot. 

Butch looks out the window for a moment, he looks back at me and shrugs.

”Yeah, why not, ” he says. 

I feel strangely happy. I can't help the smile stretching across my face. My heart is pounding louder now and I'm sure my face may be pink from my body heat. 

Butch plops his bag down by his desk and unzips it. He pulls out a large bag of those mixed chips with the pretzels and the cheeses and the sun chips. He holds it up and gives it a shake, silently asking if I want to share. 

I nod...because gaming snack food is always a yes, please. 

Butch walls over and plots down next to me. He shakes the bag and opens it from the bottom. I would have been horrified if it was brilliant. A perfect mix of all the good stuff and the bottom crap. 

”You’re a genius, ” I say.

He smirks, ” if I had scissors, I would have cut I hope in the middle.” 

I'm confused by that comment. Scissors? Wait, oh, I get it. 

”A bag bowl?” I say I feel proud of getting it. ” Butch, your so smart!” I say, truly surprised. How did I not know of this before? Shake the bag and the open from the bottom? That's so smart. 

”What games you got?” he asks. 

”Super Mario Party, Super smash, and overcooked,” I list,” take your pick.” 

We end up playing overcooked.

My nervousness melts away. I feel comfortable sitting next to him as if I've sat next to him before. 

Butch wouldn't stop dashing into me at random times. It pissed me off so much that I took a handful of chips and threw it at him. This only seemed to fuel his power further. He's too powerful! And he wouldn’t let me control the truck to move forward in the levels. And he laughed. 

It’s wonderful. It’s wonderful and frustrating and I never knew he would be such a harasser when it comes to games. 

“I’m never playing this game with you again!” I declare. He only chuckles and continues to torment me.

I’m able to gain control for a moment to move us forward in the levels. Then he goes back to torturing me. 

”Where do you go?” I asked him. I take a pretzel and put it into my mouth. We put the game away from a few minutes before so the night guards don't catch us. 

”I hang out with my brothers, ” he says. ”Sometimes I ditch them. No point in staying here if I can just leave.” He carefully picks out the cheesiest and pops them into his mouth to suck on them. 

It’s nice to talk to someone. Butch is a nice person despite his infuriating dashing in overcooked. 

The guard comes and lets us out for the rest of the night. We don't say goodbye to one another but acknowledge one another when he drives off on his bike. I wonder where he’s going, or what he’ll do once he gets there. I clam onto Buttercup's bike, helmet strapped on and hugging her waist tightly. 

Once at home, I heat a plate of spaghetti and broccoli and take it up to my room.

I plop down on my bed, legs crossed with my plate in my lap. I turn on my phone. My messages have been flooded with the stranger’s messages. 

I really don’t want to read them. 

I had a good day today and I don’t want to read anything this person has to say to me. I turn off my phone and charge it. I grab my laptop and finish watching a movie series I’ve been meaning to finish. 

I fall asleep with my belly full and the movie still playing.   
  
I wake to my phone ringing. 

I rub my eyes and reach for my phone. I pause the credits playing on my laptop as I answer.   
  
“Hello?” I yawn. 

I wait for a moment, there is only silence on the other end. Not the normal silence when the call doesn’t contact, I can hear breathing. It’s soft. I’m barely able to hear it, but I can and it makes me scared. 

“Who is this?” I ask. 

The call ends. 

I look at my phone, befuddled. It's nearly four in the morning. The caller’s number is replaced with an Unknown, the same unknown that has been texting me. 

I go into my messages. 

_’You looked pretty again today.’  
_

_’I want to touch your gold hair, ’  
_

_’We should talk. Why aren't you answering me?’  
_

_’You playing hard to get? That's adorable.’  
_

I feel my heart drop and tears sting my eyes. My throat is tight and I can barely breathe. 

There is a picture of me on Buttercup’s bike from earlier. It's just after Butch left. I'm hugging my sister tightly with my head turned away from where the picture was taken. 

_’You look so beautiful.’_

_’Why the hell aren't you answering me? Stop ignoring me,’_

There are no more text messages so far. 

I hug my pillow tightly and weep into it so no one can hear me. Need to change my number, how did this person get my number? 

Why is this happening to me? 

I don't sleep for the rest of the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To anyone who dashes other characters in the Game Overcooked: how dare you.


	5. Jack the Ripper

“Bubble, these to table three,” Julie orders from behind the counter. 

“Thank you, Julie.”

I grab the trays and feel the weight settle before walking to my table. I make sure to smile as I set the first tray down and distribute the meals out to the costumers. I lower the second tray down and do the same. They pass their empty plates to me and I place them on the now stacked trays.   
  
“Enjoy your meal, if you need anything, please just call me over.” 

“I could use a refill,” the older woman raises her wine glass.

“Sure thing. Let me just get an older waitress,” I say.

”Red please, ” she says.

I hustle back to the kitchen holding trays of empty plates. I settle them down on the counter for the kitchen staff to take them and disappear into the back. 

I sigh, letting my shoulders fall and I slump over a little against the door.

My feet hurt.

I jam a finger into the back on my heel and wiggle around the footing. I sigh at the slight relief it gives me before moving on to the other shoe.

I spot a few waitresses chatting close by in the back. ”Marley, can you take some red wine to table three?” I call. 

She turns to me and gives off a smile only I can only describe as wise and gentle as can be from a woman her age. Marley is a young university student at 22, but I didn’t know that when I first met her because of how mature she looks and acts. 

I’m not allowed to pour any alcoholic beverages, I’m not 21, I have to ask an older member of the staff. Marley seems like the perfect choice.

”Sure thing, doll, just sit back and take a load off for a few,” she calls before setting out with a bottle of red wine. 

I collapse down into a chair and rip off my flats. ”My gosh, everything hurts, ” I sigh as I rub the bottom’s of my feet with my black, no-show socks. 

”You’ve been busting your ass all afternoon. Take a load off. It isn't that busy, ” Charlie says. 

”I can't, ” I say, pressing my thumbs into the bottom pads of my foot. ”I spent all my money on something really dumb and I'm too afraid to ask for money from my dad, ” I say. I don't like lying but they would laugh at what I did with my money.

Sure Butch gave me my money back, but I still lost a hundred dollars. I'm already being talked about at school as the girl that kicked Princess and I bribed the Joe brothers. What's next? I vandalize my school?

”What did you do?” Maria asks. She smirks with a foxy grin, ” did you spend the money on a bag or something?” 

I want to laugh. I give her a smile to humour her. ”Yeah, something like that, ” I say. I slip on my flats and stand. ”I gotta get back to my shift, ” I say. 

”Common now, the place is barely piling in anybody, ” Maria says with a slight chuckle in her throat and lazily sways her hand. 

I hum, going over to the sink and washing me feet-smelling hands and I dry them off with a towel. I turn to face her, leaning all my weight onto the sink counter.

”Then you won't mind me taking over your tables, ” I say before pushing off from the counter and walking to the door.

”Be my guest, doll!” she calls with a lighthearted laugh. 

”Thanks, Maria, ” I say.

She knows I'm serious I'll be taking her tables and knows not to stop me. I like to keep busy on my feet at work and never stopping unless my feet hurt so gosh, darn much. The end of the night is coming to a close. All guests are gone and the doors are closed and locked.

It’s very dark outside but that’s common for this time of night. Chairs are stacked off the side and tablecloth fold so the tables can be washed. 

I stay, as usual, to help clean and wash down tabletops and counters. My fingers are wrinkled from suds and water. They’re cramping up. I try to flex my fingers and shake my wrists but the ache refuses to cease. My feet still hurt, in fact, they hurt more now than before. I can barely pick them up, dragging my feet one over the other in hopes to just keep moving. I can barely keep my eyes open and are dry but that’s part of the course. My vision is blurring together as I can barely stay awake. 

I collect all my well-earned tips for the night and head to the change room.

I strip down to my bra and panties. I fold my clothes before shoving them into my bag. I slip on a white long-sleeved shirt with random streaks going around my middle and pull on my black vest. I slip on my leggings and sneakers. I sigh in relief at the comfort they give me.

I walk over to the mirror and take out my contact lenses. I pull out my glasses and place them on my nose. I never liked how I looked with my glasses but I’m too tired to care right now. I pull my hair out from a ponytail and brush through the knots and kinks. 

I sigh, looking at myself in the mirror. The makeup on my face us starting to fade and I can see the dark circles under my eyes from the lack of sleep. My phone has been blowing up from people at school who just so happened to get my number. Asking about my two stunts this week. 

I pack my stuff up and sling my backpack over my shoulder. I say my goodbyes to reminding works. As I head for the back door, Walter calls out for the kitchen.

“Come here Bubble, you know the drill, get back here, ” his laugh bellows out and waves me over. He's holding a white plastic bag with boxes of leftovers inside. 

I sigh with a tired smile on my face. “Any more sweets and I’m gonna get fat Walter,” I say jokingly. “It’ll go straight to my hips.” He chuckles heartily with a wide grin on his face. I walk over to the kitchen and take the kitchen and take the bag from Walter, ”Thank you, Walter, ” I say. ”Good night Walter.” 

”You be safe now, Ya hear?”

I nod and walk over to the door and push it open. 

The air is cold hits my face, it stings my lungs when I take in a deep breath. It's a refreshing sting in my mouth and I stand in the light of the door, soaking in the cool air. I shift my weight along with switching the bag of leftovers into my other hand.

My feet still ache from the hustle and bustle of my workplace, it hurts less now that I'm in the comfort of my running shoes. I should really ask for a few fewer hours but I'm desperate for the hours. Anything to keep my mind off from the rumours flying around the school and the text messages I'm getting. 

I don't like the streets of Townsville after dark, especially in the bad part of town. I don’t know why Buttercup loves the night, I guess she feels like herself in it. 

I can’t say I feel the same. I hate it. I will rather be out in the warm sun with the rays warming my face. I want to like the dark, or at least be comfortable enough in it to not tense up and my skin crawls like a bunch of spiders skittering down my arms and legs.

I continue to walk to the nearest bus stop. I keep my head down as I pass by others on the sidewalk, my dad never really wanted me to work in this part of Townsville. I begged for the chance to work and this is where I landed, I like working where I am. At night time, it can be scary.

There are a lot of bad people that live here. There are a lot of confused people here, drugs and muggings and sometimes there is some moaning in back allies but I just keep my head down and keep walking. 

Walking downtown in the dark with only a single thought in my mind, get the bus stop, should have kept me on a straight path, but my eyes flickered once and I had to do a double take, down to a young man dressed in black with something moving around the inside of his hoodie. His head is down and he’s not moving 

“Butch,” I say. I crouch down and lift the hood up.

His head pops up, his face is scary hidden my the shadows from the dim light posts, his left eye is dark and swollen. Under his black eye, his cheek was beaten red and lip cut. 

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” I ask. I reach into my bag, knowing I left some rubbing alcohol and cloth for Buttercup. 

He slowly blinks and squints at me, trying to piece together who I am. I start dabbing his cheek and under his eye. 

”Bubbles?” his voice is raspy. ”What are you doing here?” 

What he really means is what am I doing here at such a late time in the dark. Or maybe why I even stopped, I don't know myself. 

”I work close by, ” I say. 

”Down here?” he asks. ”Isn’t your dad loaded or something?” 

I shrug, ”I need the work experience, ” I say. ”And daddy’s money only gets you so far.” 

He chuckles, I smile. 

His eyes flicker to the moving bulge hidden under his hoodie. He looks me dead in the eye and smirks, chills run down my spine. He unzips his jacket, out pops the head of a kitten. It looks barely six weeks old, but it seems lively. It starts meowing, I feel my heart melt and hurt at the same time. He and the kitten are both pretty messed up. 

”I found him in a storm drain, ” he says. 

I reach out with my finger, it noses my finger and meows. I chuckle nervously, I don't want to hire it. 

”What’s its name?” I ask. 

”Jack the Ripper.” 

I can't contain my sudden burst of laughter escaping my mouth. ”Of course, he's just a deadliest thing I've ever met, ” I coo at him. ”What made you name him that?” 

He shrugs. 

”And what happened to you?” I ask. 

His smirk fulters for barely a second, I'm surprised I even caught it fall at all. He puffs out his chest and is back to smiling. 

”Got my ass kicked pretty hard, ” he says. His stomach growls, I can't help but chuckle. 

I sit next to him, and pull out the bag of leftovers I was given from work. I offer some to him, and watch him scarf down a pastry. I take a piece and rip off tiny pieces to give it to Jack. Both of them must be hungry from the way they barely breathe while eating. 

I honestly lose track of time, I jump at my phone buzzing. I open my phone and frown.

Another mean message. 

I note the time and close my phone. I go to stand, ” I better get going, ” I tell him. I may have to walk. I don't want to call Bittercup, she's on a date, I don't want to ruin it for her by calling her. 

”I could give you a ride, ” he says, standing next to me. He rides a motorcycle, same as Buttercup. 

”What about him?” I ask.

Butch looks down at Jack and looks at me, ”you got any room in your bag for one more?” 

Butch takes me to his bike. It's not as nice and shiny as Buttercup’s with the slick black sides, but well taken care of. Butch doesn't have a second helmet. I'm a little nervous, I've never ridden a bike without a helmet.

”You scared?” he asks. He hands me his helmet, I look at it for a moment, confused. Wouldn't he need it more than me?

”Are you gonna kill me?” I ask, slipping on the helmet.

He smirks, shrugging to himself before getting into the bike. ”Maybe another time. ”

Jack is safely tucked away in my bag. I wrap my arms around his waist and press forward against his back. His bike motorcycle roars, I enjoy the wind hitting my face. Honestly, now that I'm feeling his chest with my hands, he’s got a sick build. 

He drives me home.

I had him back his helmet and fluff up my already messed up helmet hair. 

”What about Jack?” I ask, opening up my back. 

Butch searches the back of his head. He reaches over to rub under Jack’s chin. ”My house doesn't take pets, ” he says sadly. 

”I’ll take him, ” I blurt out. 

He looks at me hopefully, how can I deny either of them, Jack is so small and Butch, I'm sure, would take him if he could. Honestly, I'm screwed, my dad doesn't like pets either. 

”Would your dad be okay with that?” 

Oh God no. 

I put my finger to my lips and playfully hush. ”This will our little secret, ” I say, ” plus what's he gonna do?” 

He sets off on his motorcycle, and I head inside. I make sure to hide Jack in my bag as I head upstairs to my room. 

I let Jack out of my bag. He can barely stand on my bedsheets. I flop down on my bed and plop Jack onto my chest. 

I sigh, ” I'm so screwed.” 

He purrs into my hand, I feel myself smile. 

Worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Bubbles has a secret cat now.


	6. Bad Influences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Butch and Bubbles manage to sneak out of school during detention to hang out with their favourite cat, Jack. Maybe Butch is a bad influence on Bubbles?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's been a while. But I'm back now and it's very nice to see you all :)

I pull the dead mouse out with a pair of tongs. I told back my disgust and sadness of the dead creature in my grasp. As a kid, I had a silly notion that all living things could survive off of candy and juice forever and ever. I remember my first pet spider, I cried when I had to feed Charlet crickets, I begged to set them free. Dad sat me down and told me about predators and prey. I wanted him to do it after I learn it. But dad made me follow through with it. I cried all day. 

I place the mouse in the cage a little way away from Charles and close the cage to ensure he can't escape after his meal. 

”Beautiful, isn't it?” 

I feel my body jump slightly, in honestly surprised I didn't scream like I normally would. I hate to admit it, but my heart is pounding loud in my chest with a sudden fear at Mr. Bowers’ words.

”Not ready, ” I answered, watching Charles slowly chock down the mouse. It's gross, it's nature, but that doesn't mean it's not beautiful in someone else’s eyes, just not to me.

”But it is,” he says. He places a hand on my shoulder, bending over me to point out the bulge in Charles’ throat. “Watching the predator giving into a primal need to swollen it whole, in a few techniques only learned in the wild, it makes you think about those primal instincts are still deeply rooted within ourselves. It’s beautiful,” he says.

 _It’s built-in survival instincts_ , I wanted to say. _Instincts that were made to ensure our survival over millions of years._

“That's kinda nice,” I say. It's not, but that's just life. ”Not my thing though, ” I say. 

”How is detention treating you Bubbles?” Me. Bowers asks, ” not too boring I hope,” he chuckles. 

”I’ve had plenty of time to do my homework, ” I say. Of course, I have spent it playing games and talking to Butch when he does stay. 

”Well I'm glad. Don't worry about it being on your record, this is just to make sure you don't do it again.” He still hasn't moved his hand off my shoulder, it is rude to shrug it off though. 

”How’s Princess?” She wasn't in class for the past few days now, either she is sick or thinks skipping out on detention will make it go away.

He chuckles, ” she still doesn't get she can't buy her way out of punishment.” 

_Does he have to say it that way?_ _Punishment?_ That's a little too harsh of a word to use. Maybe _learning her lesson_ would be a better way of putting it. _Punishment_ sounds like she's being whipped or something. 

”I see it as a learning opportunity, ” I say, forcing a smile forward. He pats my shoulder a little too hard. Sucking it up, I smile still. He's a strong guy after all, and the boy’s soccer team coach. I guess being strong is kinda apart of his job.

”Yeah, money can't buy you manners, ” I joke. Unless it is Princess, that girl could buy the whole world if she used _please and thank you_ , and that money she's so proud of. If she could only have the work ethic to do so. Too bad she's too much of a brat for anyone to pay her any serious mind. 

”Very good. I knew you would do good in detention," he says, "too bad it's not working on Princess."

Honestly, I think it's been a pretty bad influence on me instead, especially spending time with Butch. I think I'll take him up on his offer on skipping out on detention. Plus I have a little kitty to look after. 

The bell rings and I move onto my next class, changing into my gym wear. I slip on an unforgivingly pink tank top and black leggings.

I can’t help but stare at my body in the locker mirror, my hair pulled back into a bun and earrings dangling from my lobes. I touch the curve of my right ear.

 _Should I get another one? Maybe I should?_ I shake my head, _that's silly. Dad would kill me._ Though it would be nice.

Lucky for the class, it was a game day, capture the flag was a go. I ran around until my face was red and my heart is pounding too loud to hear anything else. 

I'm able to wash my face after and reply at least some makeup on before changing out of the sweaty clothes. 

It's the same drill as always in detention, drop the phone off into the box and sit silently while I wait for Butch. 

He enters, like always, lies that he doesn't have his phone, surprisingly, he sits a few desks closer than what he normally does. I hide my smile, looking down at the desk, twiddling my thumbs until Mrs. Cranberr leaves, locking the door behind her. 

We sit in silence for a moment, just looking at one another as we both wait for the other to speak.

I lean on the palm of my hand. ”Wanna buy some food and cat stuff for Jack and then sneak into my house before anyone notices?” I ask.

”Are you agreeing to sneak out with me?” he asks, smirking at me. 

”No, ” I say slowly, a wide smile on my face, I can't help it. “I'm saying we do very humble serves for a pretty kitty,” I twist his words, but yes, it’s sneaking out of detention for a few hours. 

”I agree, we should play our little friend a visit.” 

I grab my wallet. shocking into my jacket pocket. My heart pounds loudly as we scramble to the window. 

Butch opened the window, he looks over at me for a quick moment before climbing out onto the tree branch. He sits there, waiting for me with his hand open. 

”Are you scared I’ll drop you?” he asks.

I already start to climb out the window, thanking myself for not wearing a skirt today. 

”I’m scared of getting caught, ” I say. It's rather thrilling though. 

He smirks with his stoic face. ”I won't let you get caught.” 

I hesitantly reach for his hand, I can see my hand shaking, if I don't leap now, I may hesitate too much and miss my chance and fall flat on my face. I take a deep breath, I grab ahold of his hand, jumping onto the tree branch. My heart bounces in my chest, holding onto his hand for dear life as it all settles in. _Oh gosh, I just snuck out of detention_. Sure it's only jumping to a tree, but it's all so exciting. 

His face is rather stoic, and his smirk makes my heart race with the thrill. ”You excited?” he asks.

I can't help but grin until my cheeks hurt. ”Yes, ” I answer honestly.

He's a horrible influence on me. But was never very allowed to play hooky or do anything that would upset the teachers and Dad in the first place. Always had to be Bubbles, one of Mr. Utoniom’s good little girls. 

We climb down the tree. It's like I'm a little kid again, climbing up and down the tree in my backyard with my sisters when we were small. Once we reach the grass, we don't stop, making a break for it to the student parking lot as the rest of our peer's lounge around. We do a bad job blending in, but it doesn't matter when are already on his bike. He hands me his helmet, I gladly take it. 

Just as I put it on over my head, I spot Blossom. For a moment, I hesitate. Was this a good idea? Of course, it isn't; if she finds out what I'm doing or even sees me, I'm a deep crap. 

I get onto his bike, and hide my face into Butch’s back, hugging his back tightly. I can't let her see me. 

The bike starts up, I can hear it's purr. I close my eyes, picturing a robotic kitty purring. 

”You ready?” he asks. 

”Let’s go!” 

I close my eyes, burring my face into his thick leather jacket. It smells good, liking it's been freshly bathed in lavender. His scent is musky with a slight sweat, I feel guilty enjoying his smell. 

My hair blows behind me in the wind, getting in my eyes and tickling my face. I squeeze his waist harder, afraid if I were to loosen my grip even a tiny bit, I just go flying. 

“We should go to my place!” I yell, smiling into his leather. 

“Why?”

”Let's get Jack!”

We drive behind my house. If my Father saw me out of detention, he’d lose his head.

I hop off his bike and walk over to the tall fence. I scale the fence as I used to when I was little. I kick up my leg, throwing myself over it; planting feet first on the grass. 

I haven’t don’t it in a long while, but I climb the tree outside my window like I’m a skilled rock climber scaling the sides of cliffs. 

I’m sure he’s watching me, and I may be stupid enough not to show him how to get into my house, but he hasn’t done a single thing that sets off anything to make me worry, but I should be careful from now on. For how scary the rumours say he is, I'm not getting anything like that from him. Or just maybe he isn't showing it to me; I don't expect him to, we don't know each other very well, though he did just skip detention together. At least we can bond over liking animals. 

I push open the window I left unlocked out of habit. 

I spot Jack playing around inside with a ball I left him. Poor baby must be hungry. I need to buy him food. I crawl inside, taking a bag and scooping him up in my arms. "Hello, Jackie," I coo at him in a baby voice. I place him in a small backpack and zip it up just enough to keep him safe. I should really get one of those kitty backpacks to take him outside more often. I grab my wallet and place it into my back pocket before heading back out the window again with Jack in tow. I can hear him crying inside my bag, but if this wasn't such a stressful situation climbing down a tree I would comfort him.

I jump the rest of the way, once I note the distance from the ground. I land with bent knees, and a silent hope Jack is okay in my tiny backpack. I yank the bag under my armpit and unzip it. Jack pops his head out with too much excitement I have to push his head back in without his fur getting caught on the zipper. I walk over to the fence, on my tippy toes I peek over the fence. I hold the bag over. "Here. Take him."

Butch gets off his bike, taking my pink bag and backing away so I can climb over. I can't help but smile at his buff and dark guy holding a pink bag with a kitten inside. 

I scale the fence and take the bag from him. "I think we should get him a proper cat backpack."

"Don't you mean a cat carrier?"

"No. I want to carry him outside. A backpack is way cuter."

We hop onto his bike and set off to a pet store. I didn't expect him to come in with me, or even pitch in, with paying for Jack's things. Luckily it was in time to just sneak back into school without being noticed. But that whole time I couldn't bear to stop smiling, even if my cheeks hurt. 

We drive back to my house. This time, Butch comes with me up the tree. Using the front would be faster and my dad wouldn't see us since he normally works in his lab downstairs all day, but I can't risk any chances, or even Buttercup or Blossom somehow being home. We let Jack out of my bag to run around. But he just yawns and falls asleep on my bed. We ditch the shopping bags too, hiding them under my bed. 

"So this is your bedroom. It's girly."

"Why thank you,"

We manage to make it back to school, and this time, Butch joins me in the classroom. 

I can't help but smile into my hand as he keeps that stoic face in front of the nightguards that let us out for the night. When you see someone being all cute with a kitten, it's almost impossible to see them as scary.

I take back my phone, joining Butch outside, the cold air hits my face and fills my lungs. I look over to the student parking lot and smile. He's already on his bike, buckling his helmet. He catches my smile, and I wave. He gives me a quick wave back before driving off into the night, I close my eyes, still able to smell the leather from his jacket, and it pressed against my cheek. I must be weird. 


	7. Take on The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it's Buttercup's turn to be a bad influence on Bubbles by taking her out in a night in her shoes. Along with learning more about her sister's private life outside of the home and school life. And on a school night too.

I can feet the weight of my eyes, blinking sleepily, a tear forming in the corner of my eye. "I'm super sleepy," I yawn into the palm of my hand. It's barely seven o'clock, I shouldn't be this sleepy. I even got the perfect eight hours of sleep the night before and school was rather relaxing today. I flop back on Buttercup's bed, the rustling of clothes makes my ears tingle.

"You're so lame Bubbles." Buttercup tosses an article of clothing at me. It lands on my face, I'm too lazy to remove it.

"If lamest is a punishment for exhaustion, then I'll take it."

She tosses another piece of clothing at me. "Common, get off your ass," she says, "you promised me."

I groan, pulling off the clothing that clouds my sight. I push up from the bed. Buttercup is in her bra, black and laced and I'm all the more jealous of how beautiful she looks. She is the walking reminder of cool. Her jeans hang low on her hips, leather belt in hand. "Why do you have to be so pretty?" I ask, annoyed at how gorgeous she looks. Her short black hair is curled around her soft snow face and her eyes pierce me with her smug grin.

She pats my head, ruffling my hair, "don't worry Shrimp, I'm sure you'll reach your growth spurt soon enough."

"Oh, you'll have a growth spurt soon enough," I mock her. "Ow!" her fist whams down on my head. 

"You can just borrow some of my clothes tonight if you're so worried about seeming more adult," she says. It was already my plan to beg to borrow some of her clothes for tonight, but now that she's mentioned it, I don't want them. 

"You're so lucky," I groan. She looks so much like mom: so cool and wild. 

"Well I think you're pretty lucky," she says, "... _at least Dad can't stand to look at you_ ," she murmurs.

That's right, Buttercup looks the most like mom. It must be hard to remind him of someone he lost. Blossom stands out since she shares dad's brains and intelligence nearly full fold. Her personality is also very similar to her too. What do I have? Sometimes I feel like the forgotten middle child of my sisters. Dad would never say it outright, nor would he like to admit it, but he favours Blossom far more than Buttercup or me. I can only guess that's why Buttercup wants to distance herself from our family. This isn't what Mom would have wanted but it is our reality. 

"Common Buttercup," I say, "it's not like I'm dressing to impress here," I say. 

My phone goes off. My instinct is to answer it, but I'm sure it's one of those texts again. I would mute my phone if it wasn't for the fact that I need to know when my sister or dad contacts me. I even tried blocking his number the other day, but they just used another unknown number. Who would be so awful to do something like this? 

She smirks, and that makes me smile to see her back to her usual self. "Oh?" she says suggestively. "Already have a guy on your mind?"

I shake my head, putting my hands up in defence, "it's not like that, I swear," I say, "there isn't anyone, I swear."

"I don't think I believe you," she mocks. "Common let's make you look hot."

I can feel my heart tighten in my chest, "please don't call me that."

"Sexy."

I cover my ears in shame. "Stooooop."

"Die."

She pulls out a black tank-top with spaghetti-straps that can't hide her lacy bra straps underneath. On top of that, she throws on a large green and yellow flannel, rolling up the sleeves to her elbows and letting it hang freely from her shoulders. She slips on her belt and buckles it, her gold earrings swinging from her ears. Dad doesn't like her many piercings on her ears even when in my opinion, she doesn't have _that_ many. 

Buttercup helps pick out one of her tops, lending me some of her white shorts, which may be a little smaller than my liking but I always did want to switch up my wardrobe. She lends me a black blouse, it reaching down my wrists and puffs out my chest. 

Buttercup, despite her rougher and tougher attitude, is way better at makeup than me, it sucks since back in middle school, I was always the trendy one and knew almost everything on makeup. But Buttercup took that once she got herself a boyfriend. I'm not being petty, I'm so proud of her. When we were kids, she hated this stuff. Good on her for embarrassing being feminine and tough, That's my sister. Powerful and beautiful. 

Dad doesn't know about this; if he did, he’d lock us in the house for a month. I giggle at the thought as Buttercup puts on my makeup. 

”Stay still, ” she says, squeezing my chin, her dull nails pressing into my cheeks. ”Done.” 

She stands back to let me get a look at her handiwork in the mirror. I frown slightly. Soft pink on my lips and cheeks, eyeshadow light as well. I know I look good in bright, cheery colours, but I can rock warm and darker colours too. I smile, turning my head up to Buttercup. Her face is dark work mascara and eyeshadow. Her lips a dark blood red. She looks older.

”I love it.” 

”Awesome, ” she says. 

We slip on our runners. Buttercup takes the bag with our other shoes inside and slings it over her shoulder. 

We just had dinner, so Dad won't come upstairs to get us for anything. Blossom is normally in her room working. It’s a clean sneak out. 

”One more thing, ” she says, rushing over to her side drawer. She grabs a ribbon, a dark blue one and walks over to me. A flinch as she reaches around my neck, subconsciously raising my head as she ties a bow. ”Now you're ready.” 

I glance back at the mirror. I touch the ribbon at my throat in awe. It's not much, but it does so much. 

We make it to my room. I moved Jack into my art studio since I knew this was coming up. I want to tell Buttercup, but I don't think telling her about _That Asshole, Butch Joe_ and I are sharing a cat is the best idea at the moment. I’ll tell her later. 

I close the bedroom door.

Buttercup opens my window and makes the first move to climb out. She's already halfway down the tree by the time I reach the window. I climb out and shut the window before climbing down. 

Her bike is parked behind the house, in the same place, Butch’s motorcycle was parked. I grab a helmet and buckle the strap. Joining her on the bike, I wrap my arms around her waist. I grin in excitement; never having gone to a party before, nevertheless on a school night. 

The bike begins to purr; I can't stop comparing it to Butch’s bike. Her’s is a lighter purr to his heavier rumble. Buttercup is all about speed. 

We race off. I have no idea where we are going or even if I’ll have fun, but I'm doing this for Buttercup. 

The wind blows my hair back, the smell of night-time air is so sweet to my nose. Some parts of the city I recognize, like the bad part of town or the place I work, but others are foreign.

The city at nighttime is terrifying, all dark and foreboding with creepers and crawlies seeping in and trying to grab you. But as long as I'm with Buttercup, I’ll be safe. 

Buttercup parks outside of a warehouse just on the edge of the city’s trading port. 

I bask in the night sky mirroring the rolling tides and calm waters. The bright moon above the head is full and bright. Beautiful. 

”Common, the party is this way.” 

”Coming!” 

She hands me my shoes, and I toss the sneakers into the bag. 

The large garage doors of the warehouse open. Music bleeds from the opening maw of the warehouse, it looked back to the brim but in reality, there were maybe 50 people dancing around. The band and stage make it look smaller. The music is heavy rock, unforgiving lyrics meet my ears, making my head pound and heart race. 

My eyes catch the bar. ”There’s a bar?” I ask. Temptation is a slippery bastard when Dad never lets me touch a drop of his brews.

Buttercup grabs my hand, her smile lights up neon lights. ” Let's get some alcohol into your system!” 

* * *

I'm buzzed from the cider in my system, but I will never admit it. My cheeks are warm, and my eyes are droopy, but I can't stop how much fun I'm having dancing along with the crowd. 

I feel someone grab my hand; turning to see Buttercup. She pulls me away from the crowd. ”Common, there is someone I want you to meet.” 

I stumble along after her, noticing some guys I've seen well before, in a different place. Embarrassment washes through me as I remember screaming into the megaphone on the school bus. 

”This is the Gange Green Gang, ” she says, stopping in front of the group of the main members. She points to who I can only guess is their leader. Long black hair slicked back, narrow face and stumbled chin. Black sunglasses covering his eyes, in the dark. His body is long, lengthy but also well belt. 

”Sup doll.” 

”Hey, ” Buttercup says with a wave, a grin spreading wide on her lips, ” Not in front of my sister, will ya, ” she laughs. 

”What?” he says in surprise, ” this brode?” he chuckles. ”Wait a moment, I know you.”

 _Oh no._

”You’re the cute girl on the bus, ” he says, ”scared my boys half to death when you screamed into the megaphone.” 

I clam up a little, nervously chuckling along with him. ”Yeah, sorry about that.” 

”No, no, not at all. It was fucking hilarious, ” he says, ” you had the Rowdy Ruff Boys shaking in their little booties.” 

I laugh, thinking back, ” yeah, I guess it was funny, ” I say, ” but to be honest, I was terrified.” 

”I bet. You're a tiny thing. Nothing like my Butters here.” He wraps an arm around her shoulder, and ok my shock, plants a kiss on her cheek. And she giggles. 

”This is your boyfriend!” I say in shock. 

”Yeah, this is who I wanted you to meet, ” she says. 

”Wow Buttercup, into older men?” I tease.

Her face goes red with embarrassment. ”Shut up!” 

”Hey, I'm only 20.”

I laugh. ”Don’t lie to me.”

He barks out laughing, ” I'm not!” 

I may have come to my senses a little but it's all so funny to me. But I'm drunk, so what do I know anymore. 

”It's not to meet you, old man, ” I laugh. ”I’m Bubbles.

”Nice to meet you too, little lady, I’m Ace. I promise I'll continue taking good care of Buttercup.” 

No need to threaten him into keeping his word. I know if he screws up, Buttercup can handle herself, and if she can't, I'm not as weak as I look. 

”You better.” 

”Speaking of, you said that those snot rags would be here, ” she says, ” I wanted to beat Butch and Brick’s faces in, ” she says. 

”Boys were coming, ” he says, disappointed. ” But their dad caught them and forced them to go to some lame theatre.”

 _Butch was going to be here?_

I shitter at the possibility he might have seen my slightly buzzed. But it might have been nice to talk to him more outside of school. But there’s also the matter of how he’d treat me differently in front of others. 

I didn't want to think about it. It's good that he’s not here. I can just spend time with Buttercup. 

”You can't beat up some dumb boys Buttercup?” I laugh mockingly. ”I thought you could take out anyone.” 

”Want me to kick your ass?” she says. 

I grab her hands, grinning like a clueless idiot, ” No, just dance with me.” I pull her back to the dance floor with me, ” I’m stealing her!” I tell Ace. 

I just want to dance with my sister. 

* * *

We manage to sneak back in through my window. Buttercup stayed sobber enough to be able to drive home; not our smartest decision ever. I flop onto my bed, breathing in the frozen air of night seeping into the bedroom. 

I hum, dragging up my top and tossing it onto the floor. 

"Bubbles," Buttercup tiredly chuckles, "You can't throw things."

Childishly, I reach up for her. "Come cuddle with me."

She sighs, I hear her belt and flannel fall to the ground.

"Alright dummy," she says. 

Buttercup crawls into bed with me, and latch onto her like a sloth.

She's so cozy. 

Her arms wrap around my waist, nuzzling into my side.

"Goodnight Bubbles."

The phone goes off with another text. To think of it, I haven't touched my phone all night. 

"Goodnight, Buttercup."


End file.
